


Lace and things

by lazarusthefirst



Series: Show a little skin [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing Kink, F/M, Humor, Just for giggles, Lingerie, M/M, Miscommunication, background Scott/Kira, implied Scott/Liam, minor Stiles/Malia - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:43:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3983668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarusthefirst/pseuds/lazarusthefirst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a guy gotta do to chase down a dude who participated in the destruction-via-ejaculation of a very nice pair of shorts?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lace and things

**Author's Note:**

> [shrug, points into distance] the reasons, they went that way

**Kira keeps trying to put me in a dress. This is ur fault**

 

_Why are u resisting?? Just do it_

 

**I don’t fit**

 

_Not with that attitude_

 

Stiles was continuing to pay for his stunt with the shorts two weeks later. Mainly through progressively panicked texts from Scott, who despite his tough talk was not ready to shimmy into one of Kira’s leather skirts, and by the stoney silence resonating from Derek’s end of things. Stiles had thought that helping a guy clean come off his ex-girlfriend’s borrowed shorts was something that would bring two people together, even if the aforementioned ejaculation didn’t quite do the job, but apparently not.

If nothing else, Derek still owed him a pair of Daisy dukes. Fucker was so not getting off that easily. 

‘Lydia,’ asked Stiles carefully as they were finishing their lunch. ‘What do you do when a guy you maybe did stuff with won’t text you back?’

Lydia wiped her lips delicately with her napkin. The restaurant was noisy, its doors open to the mall, but Stiles still wished she’d lower her voice when she said ‘Usually I’d use my jeep to drive over to Derek’s house and demand that he help me replace the clothes we ruined together, and maybe actually ask him out on a date, but I’m crazy like that.’

Stiles gaped at her. ‘How did you - ‘

‘Malia has a big mouth.’

‘Goddammit.’ Stiles’ head hit the table with a thunk. 

‘If it helps,’ Lydia added, ‘I don’t think it’s a matter of getting his attention. You had _everyone’s_ attention last week. He’s probably just shy, or embarrassed.’

‘And I’m not?’ demanded Stiles. ‘I’m never wearing girl clothes again. I don’t care how great I - I don’t care. Never again.’

Lydia shrugged, catching the waitresses eye and indicating for the bill. ‘That’s your choice, I guess. But I think you’re going in the wrong direction.’

Stiles’ phone was buzzing, but he ignored it. ‘Wrong direction?’

Lydia nodded. ‘Don’t cover up. Show some skin, Stilinski.’

 

**What if I rip her dress and she hates me??**

 

_Breathe in ;)_

 

**I’m sorry I don’t have girl hips like u!!**

 

_Wait are you dressing up for Kira or Liam?_

 

**I hate you**

 

Stiles stormed around his house for two days before dragging his ass over to Malia’s for help.

‘What? I don’t have any more clothes for you,’ she said flatly. ‘I had to burn those shorts.’

‘ _Please_ ,’ begged Stiles, leaning against her doorframe. ‘I need to up my game. He spooked. He’s a wild animal, Malia. I need treats to woo him back into my life or something.’

‘God, what are you - ok, shut up for just a sec,’ Malia winced, putting a hand on her forehead and lying back on her bed. She was wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxers and Stiles remembered with fond nostalgia how those used to be his boxers, a million years ago.

‘I’ll pay you back,’ he offered. 

‘How?’

Stiles chewed his lip. ‘Sexual favours?’

Malia snorted. ‘Derek wouldn’t be too happy about you getting off with someone else.’

‘Hey,’ said Stiles, offended. ‘Who said anything about me getting off?’

Malia lifted her head a little, looking interested. ‘Tell me more.’

Half an hour later, with Stiles’ old boxers around her ankles and her hand clutching his hair, Malia finally agreed to take him shopping.

 

’I still can’t believe they let us into the changing rooms together,’ Stiles said honestly, as they piled into his jeep along with three very elegant and discreet shopping bags. 

‘Well, you kept talking loudly about Derek and whether your cock would fit into those panties,’ Malia said reasonably. 

‘And you’re dressed like a lesbian,’ countered Stiles.

‘What?’ laughed Malia. ‘Since when are nose rings and undercuts exclusively for lesbians?.’

‘I was talking about the t-shirt that says “Save a tree, eat a beaver”.’

Malia rolled down the window. ‘Whatever. It still counts as a bisexual t-shirt. I’m keeping it.’ Fishing around in the bag, she dug out the Star Wars baseball cap she’d made Stiles buy her (because apparently the lick out wasn’t payment enough for her shopping services) and jammed it on to her head. It read “The Force is strong in this one”. ‘Ok, now we can go.’

Stiles rolled his eyes and peeled out of the parking lot, wondering if the black or the red lace was the best choice for getting Derek’s blood up. 

 

_I upped my game. Your move Scotty! [Image attached]_

 

**Dude I thought we agreed no sudden dick pics**

 

_This isn’t a dick pic this is me encouraging you to at least TRY_

 

**I’m not wearing thigh-highs**

 

_No one’s asking you to! Just go to Macy’s they have a whole section of bigger dresses it’s honestly so do-able and you’ll look awesome TRUST STILES HE KNOWS BEST_

 

**I hate when u refer to yourself in third person**

 

_Wise he is, your Stiles_

 

**I hate that star trek stuff more**

 

Stiles was surprised at how unrestricted and free he felt under his clothes. At first he had to resist calling everyone he knew (except Malia, who received a single snapchat with the caption “IT’S SO LIBERATING”) but then the more he thought about how great he looked, the more he just wanted it to be for Derek alone. 

He didn’t quite get his fixation on Derek. Sure, there’d been sexual tension back when he was sixteen and a loser, but now that he was eighteen and marginally less of a loser he’d finally calmed down enough to realize that there were other werewolves in the sea and that Derek wasn’t the reason the world continued to spin.

And now he wasn’t sure if he’d gone through a late surge of puberty-magic or if it really had been the short shorts, but suddenly Derek was starting to take notice and Stiles was being cast back to that teenage uncertainty and late-night fantasies of big strong hands pinning him to the bed and soft lips kissing his neck.

And then there had been the handjob around the side of Malia’s house and the kiss and the promise of more shorts and general relationshippy vibes. Yeah, _that_ had happened, even if Derek was clearly pretending it hadn’t. 

Lydia did have a point, he conceded. Nothing would get done if he didn’t get all up in Derek’s face. Even if tonight didn’t end in bare skin and blowjobs, something had to give. 

Stiles got a wedgie on the drive over. He tried not to think of it as a bad omen.

Upon pulling up in front of Derek’s apartment, Stiles paused in order to reevaluate his life choices. On the one hand, there was proven, concrete evidence that Derek would be into this and would not turn Stiles away and/or humiliate him for showing up wearing lacy underwear under his clothes. 

However, Stiles liked to think the worst about every situation, where possible. 

He pulled out his phone, hoping for at least one good luck text.

 

**Liam was in Macy’s. We both reached for the same dress. Wtf do I do now**

 

**It would clearly never fit Kira**

 

**He’s supposed to be my beta I can’t look him in the eye STILES**

 

_Did you buy the dress?_

 

**Why are you never any help**

 

Summoning all of his courage, Stiles began the trek up to Derek’s loft. Derek liked to live on the top floor like a super villain, and Stiles chewed his cheeks the whole way up and squirmed around, uneasy, feeling like he was having a “stupid sexy Flanders” moment. 

Assuming that Derek’s werewolf hearing was enough of a doorbell, Stiles pushed open the loft door and strode in, hoping he looked more confident than he felt. Derek was stirring pasta and wearing an apron. The table was set for two, and the lighting was low. There was even a flower on the table, in a little glass flute. Not exactly the mood Stiles was expecting.

‘Oh, hello,’ Derek said, sounding a bit thrown but continuing to dutifully stir the pasta. There was a bit of an implied “Why are you here?” lingering in the air. 

I’m here to sabotage your dinner plans? Here to flounder silently before leaving?

‘I’m here about last week,’ Stiles said bravely, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he sounded like his dad when he was trying to remind Stiles that he hadn’t forgotten about some minor indiscretion. 

Derek raised his eyebrows. ‘You sound like a traffic cop. Are you here to arrest me? Did I run a light?”

Stiles gaped. ‘Are you being funny right now? I’m sorry I can’t tell, your face is in the way.’

Derek, amazingly, smiled. ‘You’re just in time for dinner.’

Stiles stepped forward hestitantly. ‘Why do I feel like this is some elaborate trap that you’ve been planning?’

‘Why say trap when you can say something normal and human like “date”,’ Derek said, far too reasonably.

Stiles stopped, face wrinkling into an expression of disbelief.

‘Ok,’ he said, folding his arms. ‘Quit fucking with me.’

Derek hesitated, then dropped the spoon. ‘Is it too much?’ he asked. ‘I’m sorry, you don’t have to stay.’

Stiles felt abruptly side-tracked. ‘How did you know I would be coming over? Did Lydia tell you?’

Derek hesitated, then shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Then how did you know I’d be here?’

The implications of Derek’s silence sank in, and Stiles abruptly felt like a self-aware protagonist in a horror movie. 

‘Did you - oh my god have you been making dinner for two every night just hoping I’d - no, I can’t deal with this.’ Stiles was waving his arms like it would make the situation go away.

Derek looked faintly abashed, _as he should_. He turned down the heat on the pasta and placed the spoon on the rim of the pot.

‘I felt bad,’ he began, ‘About how we left things. And I wanted to replace the shorts for you, but I figured, anyone can just walk into a store and buy shorts.’

‘Could you?’ asked Stiles frankly.

Derek rolled his eyes, finally looking a little embarrassed. ‘Ok fine, maybe that was part of the problem. Can you shut up for a sec and let me finish?’

Stiles smirked. That was more like Derek.

‘I wanted to order you a- a special pair. Online. But that took a while.’

‘Slow typer?’

Derek glowered. ‘Slow delivery, asshole.’

‘We’ll make a secretary out of you yet,’ Stiles murmured, beginning to feel pleasantly warm inside.

‘Anyways, they’re not here yet,’ Derek sniffed. ‘So you can stop looking so expectant.’

Stiles smiled a little. ‘But you made me dinner.’

Derek huffed a little sigh, and looked at him from under his eyelashes. ‘Yeah. Every night this week. I figured you’d be around.’

This was honestly the stupidest thing Stiles had ever heard, but man was he falling for it. He shrugged a little, lowering his eyes and smiling at his shoes like an idiot, lingerie entirely forgotten.

(He took a step forward, and remembered).

Derek served dinner. Pasta stuffed with walnut and gorgonzola. Stiles’ mouth was watering before his fork got anywhere near. 

‘This is amazing,’ he said thickly, through a mouthful of food. ‘I did not know you could cook.’

Derek shrugged. He’d hardly touched his food. ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me.’

Stiles knew he should probably give him shit for that but the food was too good. He shifted in his seat, wondering how to casually bring up the subject of sex, or if it would just come up by itself. 

They didn’t speak much. Derek ate slowly, and looked at Stiles a lot. Stiles wondered if he was thinking about the last time they were together. 

Finally the cutlery went down, and Stiles sat back, feeling apprehensive. 

‘Well, that was good,’ he commented. 

‘Thank you,’ nodded Derek. 

Stiles glanced around. ‘Anything for dessert?’

Derek raised his eyebrows suggestively, and Stiles barked a laugh.

‘Oh,’ he said, grinning. ‘Right. Ok. Guess I brought dessert then.’

But before Stiles got too carried away, he wanted to settle something that had been bugging him more than the label on his panties before Malia had snipped it off.

‘Just, before we - y’know,’ he started, ‘I just wanna know, why the hell didn’t you call me? Or come find me? It would have been a whole lot easier than making dinner for two every night and watching me not show up.’ Even as he said it, Stiles felt horrible, and horribly annoyed because goddammit Derek could you be any more awkward? ‘Shit, I’m sorry. If I’d have _known_ -‘

‘I wanted to give you a chance,’ Derek said abruptly. ‘To not come over. I didn’t know if that’s what you wanted.’

Stiles really hoped the touching would start soon, because he had a damn lump in his throat from this miserable motherfucker who still wasn’t sure if Stiles wanted to bang him or not.

‘You could have just asked,’ he laughed, swallowing painfully. Suddenly the lingerie was the best goddamn idea ever and Stiles couldn’t wait to take all his clothes off and make Derek smile. 

‘I’d already wrecked your ex-girlfriend’s shorts,’ Derek explained. ‘I didn’t want to put you under any more pressure. And so what if I couldn’t stop thinking about your ass in shorts all week, it wasn’t a good enough -’

Stiles nearly leaped across the table at him; thankfully Derek was quick and met him half way around. 

Their kiss was hot, frantic, and the table rattled as Derek pushed Stiles against it. The tiny flute holding the yellow daisy fell over, but survived the ordeal. Stiles wrapped his hand around Derek’s neck and pulled him closer, biting his lip. Derek’s hands slid up Stiles’ body, around his hips and up the hot skin of his back, taking him apart like he knew just how. 

‘Got a surprise for you,’ Stiles said, in between kisses. Derek’s hands were strong, possessive, and moving with purpose. There was a bed nearby, wasn’t there? Stiles tried to remember all the times he’d been in the loft before, but usually there was poor lighting or someone trying to kill them, or a fun combination of the two.

‘I can see that,’ Derek replied, beard grazing Stiles’ neck.

‘No, I mean an actual surprise.’ Stiles pushed him away with great difficulty and started taking off his clothes. There were one hundred sexier ways he could do this but none of them worked well with a boner and shaky limbz, so he figured he’d just stick to straightforward stripping.

Derek raised his eyebrows. ‘A striptease? On my table?’

‘Oh my god, where’s your bed,’ Stiles demanded, dragging him away with his buttons half undone.

Once Derek was safely lying on the bed and Stiles’ brain was done screaming about that because _damn_ , he looked good sprawled there at half-mast, Stiles returned to the aforementioned striptease.

‘Ok, this was a lot better planned out in my head,’ Stiles insisted, as he struggled to get his four layers off. That wasn’t even where the important stuff was, but he figured the whole thing would look sexier if he wasn’t wearing plaid.

‘Do you need help?’ Derek asked seriously. 

‘Technically yes, but not from you,’ Stiles insisted. Then his view disappeared as his shirt got stuck over his head. 

‘Ok maybe I need help.’

There was a soft snort, a creak of bed springs, and then Derek was there, gently tugging on the shirt until Stiles could see again. To his eternal surprise, Derek’s expression was unbearably tender, not to mention amused, and it took Stiles a moment to remember what he was doing. 

Luckily, Derek remembered.

His hands brushed Stiles’ as they lifted his undershirt off too, then went to the button of his jeans. Eyes holding Stiles’, they undid and unzipped until Stiles remembered his cue and pushed him away, blushing now but doing his best to recall the Beyonce look that Lydia had been teaching him.

‘Don’t laugh,’ he said sternly, before pushing his jeans all the way down.

Stiles didn’t know if it was the black, or the lace, or the fact that he _did not fit_ , but Derek’s face went into shutdown mode for a good thirty, very unnerving seconds.

‘Are you ok?’ Stiles asked quietly. 

Derek swallowed, and beckoned, sitting heavily back down on the bed as Stiles approached, smiling nervously.

‘Want me to do a twirl?’ he asked.

‘God yes,’ croaked Derek, with surprisingly force. 

So Stiles twirled, slowly, making the most of it. The pantyhose felt better on the soft carpet than they did inside his shoes, and he liked the way the top of the legs were lacy, wrapping snugly around his thigh. The panties themselves were black lace, and not all together see-through, but enough to make it obvious that there was significant space issues that needed to be sorted out ASAP. Stiles had been worried about that, but Malia had assured him that this was definitely part of the fun.

There was also a little bow at the top that Stiles was particularly fond of.

‘I wanted to get a bra, but Malia said that might be overkill,’ Stiles confessed. 

‘Can’t rule anything out,’ Derek whispered, looking like a man on the edge. His arm stretched out, fingertips grazing Stiles’ leg. He pulled him closer until Stiles was standing between Derek’s legs.

‘So I take it you like them?’ Stiles murmured, running a hand through Derek’s hair and tipping his head back so he could see his expression.

‘Did you get any more?’ Derek asked.

‘Two sets. Red and pink.’

‘Oh my god,’ moaned Derek, and buried his face in Stiles’ crotch.

Panties, shockingly, were not made for concealing erections. Ten minutes later Stiles was struggling to stand as Derek worked the head of his cock out over the waistband, red and leaking and wet from his tongue, and set to fingering the base of it through the material.

‘Oh my god that feels amazing,’ Stiles moaned, struggling not to pet Derek’s hair like a dog. ‘Please continue. Never stop.’

‘You have terrible game,’ murmured Derek from somewhere around Stiles’ balls.

Derek didn’t seem to want to let him take the panties off, but Stiles insisted when it became clear that Derek was quite content to do nothing but let Stiles rub off on them as best he could. 

‘Take them off with your mouth,’ Stiles demanded. Derek politely declined by flinging Stiles on to the bed and climbing on top of him. He hurriedly shucked off his own shirt and jeans, pushing down his boxers all too quickly for Stiles to enjoy the show. Derek pushed the panties aside without taking them off, and took both of their dicks in one hot fist that put Stiles flat on his back, shivering. 

Derek jerked them both off as his mouth worked its way up Stiles’ body, hot biting kisses leaving stinging trails of pleasure as the heat began to build in Stiles’ abdomen. Derek was everywhere, and Stiles wrapped his feet around Derek’s waist, running his stocking-clad legs over his body. Derek trembled, movement stalling a moment, and Stiles grinned wickedly before doing it again.

‘You are so fucking sexy,’ Derek breathed, nosing at Stiles’ jaw, movements still stuttering. ‘God that feels amazing.’

‘Some can sing, some can dance,’ Stiles replied with some difficulty, as he attempted to get his toes as close to Derek’s butt as possible. ‘Some can use lingerie as a sex toy. We all have our talents.’

He squeezed his thighs and Derek came with a shudder and a cry, muffled in Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles arched up into Derek’s tightened fist, the heat and the smell of sex going to his head in a dizzying array of senses until he too was coming, once again ruining yet another set of ill-fitting clothes. 

‘We did it again,’ Stiles murmured sleepily, legs falling back down to the bed, totally boneless now. ‘You gonna buy me more panties, Derek?’

Derek groaned, lifting himself up just enough so that Stiles could wriggle out and into a proper spooning position. ‘I’ll buy you one in every colour. Twice.’

Stiles raised an eyebrow. ‘Even neon green? Even grey? Wait, wait, will you get me Star Wars underwear?’

Derek pinched Stiles’ hip gently, then softened it with a kiss to the back of his neck.

‘If you help me with the online shopping,’ he said. ‘I am kind of a slow typer.’

Stiles fell asleep with a smile on his face. 

 

EPILOGUE:

 

**Please let me see!**

 

_No way_

 

**This is so unfair. I showed you mine!**

 

_Which I did not ask for._

 

**If you don’t at least tell me I’m gonna come over there and find them and laugh really loudly even if I like them**

 

_Jeez, fine. They’re denim and really tight._

 

**I thought u said they were personalized??**

 

_They have my name on the ass. In diamonds._

 

**Oh my god that is so much better than my black dress.**

 

_Kudos to you for going with the black._

 

**Kira says it looks best with my skin**

 

_And what does Liam think?_

 

**He likes it too**

 

**Shut up**

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://thetrojeans.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/lazarusthefirst/)


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